Page 82 of A Quick Stop in Paradise

“Not even a hello?”

“Hi, beautiful. You look pretty even when you’re clearly not doing well. Now, let’s get you somewhere I can spoil you.”

I wasn’t really cognizant of much. I drifted hazily from there to Brooklyn’s car, and then to her house, and I wasn’t conscious of anything I was saying or doing until she sat down on her couch next to me, and I murmured, “That was… not a good idea.”

She pressed a mug into my hands. Coffee. I really needed that right now. I sipped it quietly as she slipped a hand to my back. “What happened?” she said, and I swallowed.

“I tried to talk… about, you know. What happens after this vacation. I wanted to try laying out the framework for us… fixing this.”

She frowned. “They didn’t listen, I’m guessing.”

I squeezed my hands tightly on my mug. “I thought maybe when my mother said I could talk to her, she meant it,” I said thinly. “But apparently she wanted me totalkby agreeing to everything they wanted. They all just wanted to act like everything was normal, like I was going to go along with them on all of their events, and I was trying to push back when…”

“When?”

I sipped the coffee. “When Shane showed up and tried to feel me up, told me I’d better cooperate if I wanted to keep mylittle secret,so I told him to get the fuck away from me and shouted him down in front of my family about how I’m not ashamed to be seeing a woman.”

She blinked fast. I set the coffee down.

“He didn’t like it.”

“In front of your whole family?”

“I think I almost killed Grandma,” I said with a random laugh. “One more word and she’d probably have had a stroke.”

“Are you doing okay?” she said, her voice small, and it stirred me out of the haze in my head, looking at her.

“I’m… I’ll be okay,” I said. “Areyouokay?”

She shook her head. “Don’t worry about me,” she laughed, but it was forced. “I’m good. I’m just worried about you.”

I didn’t like her not telling me what she was feeling. I knew I was overreacting because I was already in such an emotional place, but it felt like a thin hairline crack in the finest piece of porcelain, the tiniest fault in Brooklyn’s openness that I was so attached to.

But I was just overreacting. I put it away, looking down at the floor. “I’m good, honestly,” I said, voice hollow. “Just… I really did go and step in it. Not sure if my family’s even going to talk to me anymore.”

“That’s not true.” She squeezed my arm. “I don’t know about the rest of them, but you don’t really think Stella and Oscar would leave it at this, do you?”

I laughed thinly, hugging myself. “No. Yeah. I guess that’s a good point. Just…”

“I’m sorry you had to do it like that,” she said softly. “Coming out is a sensitive thing, and it should always be able to be on your terms.”

I laughed. “I don’t care,” I said, surprising myself with how true it was. “I’m tired of turning myself into some nice… polite… palatable version for them. I’m bisexual. I’m happy for everyone to know so they can hate me for it if they’re going to. It's just…” I raked my fingers back through my hair. “I really don’t have anything.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“No family, no boyfriend, and my good, reliable career in ruins behind me—” I shrugged. “Everything solid I’ve had has been tied up in my family. I feel like I’m nothing now.”

“Ryan—” She shifted to face me directly, look me in the eye, her hand on my upper arm. “That’s not true,” she said, her voice low, firm. Grounding. “You’re an incredibly confident, brave, outspoken woman with a strong voice. You’re a journalist because you know there’s people out there—mostly other brave and outspoken women—who need to have their voices heard, and you make it happen. A whole hell of a lot of things have happened because of your voice, and that’s not something your family, your partner, anybody around, can ever take away from you.”

I swallowed, a knot forming in my throat, and I spoke thinly around it, a smile wavering on my lips. “You looked up some of my work, huh?”

“Ah, well… yes.”

I laughed. “It feels like it’s all castles built on sand. Like everything could collapse in a day and then I’m nothing.”

“You’re a lot more than you give yourself credit for,” she laughed. “Your family might not be able to see it, and that sucks, but a lot of people out there see you. And are damn glad for what you do. Myself included.”

I didn’t really know what I was doing—I put a hand on her cheek, and I kissed her, not thinking about it and just letting my body move. It felt dangerous, a different kiss than usual, not something my body was seeking out looking for contact with her body, but that my heart reached out to hers. Like I had a hole in my chest that she slotted perfectly into, and it was terrifying how much I needed her right now. She kissed me back, and when I pulled her into me, she shifted to meet me, our bodies intertwining on the couch as our lips moved slowly together, and when her fingers caressed through my hair, I flashed with this desperate feeling like I never wanted to let her go.

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